


Mass Effect: Imperator Oneshots

by psytronix



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psytronix/pseuds/psytronix
Summary: A series of oneshots, both sexual and non-sexual, based in my unwritten AU, Mass Effect: Imperator. Tags will be updated as new chapters are posted.
Relationships: Falere/Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Morinth/Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Rila/Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Samara/Male Shepard (Mass Effect)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A song I made for this fic;  
> https://soundcloud.com/redrobotix/imperator

_“I… I request the rite of Ardat-Domakra!”_

Even now, Samara couldn’t quite believe the words that had sprouted from her daughter’s mouth. The Justicar’s Code flowed effortlessly through her mind, the rite’s preparations and actions, as well, and yet…

She simply couldn’t link these concepts, neurally. 

With the help of Shepard, they’d cornered Morinth in the dank, glowing halls of Omega’s underbelly. A tremendous battle of biotic might followed, and through lobbed tables and shattered glass, Morinth had been brought to heel. As she lay, cursing at Samara’s feet, an errant thought came to her mind - a last ditch effort to save her own skin.

Samara was not a fool. It betrayed her core as a Justicar to even _refer_ to Morinth as her daughter still. She was a murderer, liar, sociopath, and if left unchecked, would instill further fear across the cosmos as an alluring demon. Samara wanted, no, _needed_ to kill Morinth. To rid the galaxy of the demon’s savagery. 

But the Code came first. 

The Ardat-Domakra, as a _rite_ the Justicar would have to grant if requested, came first.

So, Samara incapacitated Morinth. Had Shepard and Cerberus further subdue her, placing her in a state of suspended animation until Samara could make the judgement. Or, to be more specific, _prepare_ herself to be able to judge. It was one of the foulest rites a Justicar could oversee. It required, amongst many things, to use an Ardat-Yakshi’s techniques against them - the domination and corruption of a Meld itself, to _ensnare_ the mind of the victim.

The Justicar would’ve preferred now still to simply walk to Morinth’s cell and slit her throat. Whether the Code forbade her, or whether Samara still held love in her heart for her daughter, she dared not distinguish. Having spent hours deliberating against the view of the stars, Samara finally rose from the ground, and sought out the physical necessities for the rite.

Many of the items were easily obtainable on board the Normandy - a bowl, a length of cloth, and a length of rope. The final requirement, however, was the presence and action of the Doma, a sentient vessel in which the Justicar’s Code could be physically extended. Samara recognised the need for the Doma as a tool, something to absolve the Justicar involved in the Ardat-Domakra.

The Doma required absolute control over their own will and urges; and the ability to relinquish that control to the Justicar conducting the rite. Physical endurance was not a requirement, but had been stated in the Code to aide greatly, as well. Were she but a maiden, Samara would’ve wretched and cringed at the mere thought of what the rite entailed, but kept her calm now as she cycled through the crew of the Normandy in her mind.

It became clear, very quickly, that she was going indenture herself to the Commander once more. Finding the human male easily in the mess hall, Samara made her presence known to Shepard, taking the usually stoic human by surprise. In an instant, he tensed and relaxed, eyes lighting with recognition.

“Samara. Didn’t hear your approach,” he noted, dryly - sat at the table with engineers Donnelly and Daniels - engaged in friendly banter. Samara’s expression remained calm as she read the crew at the table, noticing her presence had a quieting effect. 

“Commander. I’m… Afraid I require your assistance in another matter. Regarding our most recent acquisition,” she intoned, still not believing the words coming from her mouth. Shepards’ eyes widened for a moment, and he excused himself from the engineers’ presence.

Hoping they were out of earshot, Kenneth and Gabriella sighed with relief.

“Christ, what a woman… You don’t suppose she and the Commander are shaggin’, do ye?”

“Kenneth! That is our _commanding officer!_ ”

(...)

As soon as the door to the starboard side of the crew’s quarters shut, Shepard analysed the pose of the Justicar - noting a crossing of the arms as her eyes glazed over space in front of her.

“Shepard, I request your aide in a Justicar’s ritual,” Samara said, her throat threatening to clench around the next words that would sprout from her mouth. Shepard nodded, sighing - getting weary with the load of another team member’s psychoses upon his mind. The world had _not_ been kind to him after his artificial reincarnation.

“It’s troubling you. I can only assume it’s what Morinth blurted out before you knocked her out,” Shepard noted. Samara nodded, her gaze fully returning to her commander.

“The rite of Yakshi Domakra, yes. It would roughly translate to “the subjugation of the demon”, in your tongue.”

The air between them grew thick, and Shepard waited for the Justicar to gather her will to speak, keeping absolutely quiet as to not upset her further. For a brief moment, Samara’s eyes closed, opened, and fell to the ground as the memories of her daughter were brought to thought.

“It is a foul process. It requires the breaking, mentally and physically, of an Ardat Yakshi. It requires turning their preferred weapon against them…”

“The meld,” Shepard mumbled, “the _embracing of eternity_.”

Samara nodded.

“Correct. Though I suspect this case to be a crude attempt to stay alive, I have little choice in the matter. The rite _must_ be invoked if requested,” Samara intoned, bringing her gaze back to Shepard’s.

“Why is that? What would make something so horrible _binding_?” He inquired.

“Because no Ardat-Yakshi, even in their twisted mental state, would request it. Through its name, the rite’s goal is to bring an Ardat-Yakshi to the ultimate realisation of their role in the galaxy - to be brought under heel by _siari_. Through this they are stripped of the urge to meld.”

“How is Morinth aware of the rite?” Shepard asked further, his eyes darkening with a creeping understanding of the Justicar’s ways.

“It is taught to all Ardat-Yakshi once they are discovered. Morinth would have escaped mere days after finding out of its existence…” Samara remembered now, hundreds of years ago, upon the monasteries’ grounds on Kallini.

“I assume, through this rite, that the Ardat-Yakshi in question can be brought back into galactic society? Would their accrued… _prowess,_ from melding, be affected?”

Taken aback at the question, Samara took a moment longer to think on an answer for the commander, already sensing his hesitation.

“You wish to know if Morinth will still prove useful after the rite is completed? ...I am unsure, truth be told. There exist only three recorded cases of Ardat-Domakra being enacted, and each has ended… Poorly,” Samara informed, her own mind now lit with questioning.

“I’d rather not ask. You mentioned prior that Morinth is a monster - a being that exists now only to meld, only to _hunt_ , to increase her power. She’s _addicted_ to the act of melding, yes?” Shepard asked, his tone cutting through the thickness of the air like steel through flesh.

Samara could only nod, eyes narrowed at the commander.

“I need every edge I can get in this fight... I need every able-bodied genius or prodigy that I can gather, to fight the Reapers, and the Collectors. I also need my crew performing _beyond_ their absolute peak, Samara. What does your Code say about me killing Morinth, myself?” He asked again, a fire now lit behind his cold gaze. 

Whatever uncertainty Samara felt prior was now erased by the Code’s request.

“The Code dictates the protection and retribution of she who has requested Ardat-Domakra. I would have to take your life as well, Shepard.”

He nodded, chuckling mirthlessly, realising the bleakness of Samara’s situation. With a heavy sigh, John’s smile quickly faded, his eyes darting from Samara’s for a second.

“What does the rite require of me, then?” He asked, carefully picking his words as to not imply Samara had requested the horrid ritual.

“As the rite’s _Doma_ , you are required to relinquish your body under my control. To meld with myself, and Morinth. To defend your mind against her domination, for I have no doubt it will be too tempting for her to resist. You are required to follow every instruction I give, without question, without hesitation,” Samara repeated of the Code’s instructions, not trusting her own psyche to reinterpret the directions for Shepard further.

“...And _what_ exactly will you be requesting of me during the rite?” He asked, near demanding the information. Samara drew in a sharp breath, and exhaled, eyes closed.

“...To bring the demon under subjugation, you must shatter her spirit. You must _shatter_ her will, and you must _shatter_ the temptations of her mind, her body. The rite’s methods have narrowed this down to the act of primal, physical intercourse,” Samara continued, the slightest tinge of darkened blue kissing her cheeks.

Shepard’s throat clenched instantly, and he fought back bile at the thought of what that entailed. His mind weighed down with the impending threat to the galaxy, he found himself no other options, and none other that could take his place. With Samara’s chipper description, he found himself at the helm of _another_ suicide mission.

With another deep breath, he sighed, preparing himself mentally for the task ahead.

“I will take the position as Doma for this rite, Samara. We’ll likely need biotic suppressors whilst Morinth is brought back to consciousness, as well. I’ll drop by Mordin’s lab to get those... Does the rite require anything else?” He asked her, his tone devoid of any and all emotion.

Samara felt an ocean of relief crash upon her mind, a small amount of pride taken in her choice of this ritual. Yet still, she too, prepared herself for the absolute worst-case scenario, ready to _die_ , if necessary.

“A private room would be preferred, though it is not required.”

(Some time later…)

A haze clouded Morinth’s mind as she awoke. She realised quickly she was standing, or had been stood by a giant pair of arms, which were clasped around her shoulders. With her memory surfacing, a pang of fear shot itself straight into her throat, and she took a moment to gather her surroundings.

Her mother, stood before her, impassive as always, staring deeply into her eyes. Morinth couldn't help but smile sweetly, even in spite of the ritual she would no doubt be free from soon. Despite her higher mental faculties returning, Morinth still felt a haze over her mind, something that was forbidding her from truly reawakening all her senses.

“Mother, greeting-”

“Silence. The rite of Ardat-Domakra has begun, and the Ardat-Yakshi shall not speak,” Samara intoned, eyes closed as the rite’s stages came to her mind. Morinth craned her head back as Samara began to pray in Asari tongue, noticing it was Commander Shepard that was holding her in place. Dressed down in his bathrobe as well, she noted!

 _‘An obvious choice for her Doma,’_ ’ Morinth thought to herself, chuckling. Noticing his gaze was vacant, set on Samara, she prompted him for conversation. Yet before she could utter a word, Shepard’s hand clamped shut around her open mouth - too fast for her to even _register_.

Craning her head back with rigid force, Shepard brought Morinth to meet her mother’s gaze once more. Her eyes still shining with that same furious light, Samara’s lips remained in a straight line.

“The rite has begun, and the Ardat-Yakshi _shall not speak._ ”

Morinth quickly calmed, daring not to fight both of them again in her weakened state, using her time now to study their potential openings and weaknesses. Samara commanded Shepard to relinquish his hold on Morinth, and she stood on her own, rubbing her lips with a free hand.

“As we begin this rite, we acknowledge that all beings exist to serve the consciousness of the universe. No power, granted or taken, can give one place over another in _siari._ No item, granted or taken, can give one precedence before another in _siari_. Through this understanding, the Ardat-Yakshi shall relinquish any and all physical belongings,” Samara commanded, gesturing to the incineration unit that was presented in front of Morinth.

“Strip,” Samara ordered.

In a fucked up way, Morinth felt her sex _enflame_ at the command, her mother’s cold gaze only heightening her arousal. To keep up appearances, she followed Samara’s words without a noise, deciding to give the human male behind her a show.

Tenderly, demurely, she unbuckled the belt straps on her black jumpsuit, letting her flesh be free from it’s compression, and let out the _tiniest_ sigh she could, registering the twitch of Shepard’s ears as a quiet success. With a crisp, long _zip_ , she began tracing down from her neck to her bellybutton, letting the pooled heat escape from her tight, powerful body.

She could _hear_ it now, and feel it in herself - the blood flow of arousal powering through her own genitalia, as she shied away from her mother’s gaze. It was having an effect on Shepard, too - if that twitching under his gown was anything to go by. Yet still, even with a cursory glance backwards, his gaze remained steeled on Samara.

Morinth pretended to wince at the cool air, as she retracted an arm from the sleeve of her suit, revealing azure shoulders to the Doma. Tracing her own arm downwards, she snaked it free, squishing her breasts together for her mother to _ogle_. She continued the same down the other arm, and bent down further now to squeeze out of the tight black suit.

Shepard, thoughts blank, and eyes forward, remained unfazed at the display. He could tell now, however, that by some primordial instinct, he was now at half-mast. His girthy cock twitched, revelling at the carnal _aroma_ exuded by this beautiful Asari abomination. This did not register consciously, however, remaining only a primal thought.

The black leather pooled over Morinth’s sapphire rear, light twinkling off it’s miniature, smooth scaling. Each phat cheek seemed to jiggle with just a _pinch_ of fat, a perfect lure for any unsuspecting sentient. Samara’s gaze soon darted to Morinth’s dripping cunt, which was no doubt stirred on by this ludicrous display. 

It was then Shepard spun the Ardat-Yakshi around, and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her into the air with ease. Sputtering and choking, Morinth struggled in vain to kick free from the human’s death-grip, her very core now a raging inferno of lust, her pussy _weeping_ for something to be inserted.

“Your physical belongings must be relinquished. Do away with these, or face the breakage of the rite of Ardat-Domakra,” came her mother’s _silken_ voice, sounding _huskier_ to Morinth’s ears - was that because of that death threat?

She was dropped, unceremoniously, and stood up once more, a clear wet patch at the crotch of her soon-to-be-burned outfit. Morinth fought back a horny smirk with all of her might, and finished her tease quickly, unzipping from her boots upwards, and tearing the clothing away from her now sweat-drenched body.

With a bit of hesitation, she dropped the suit in the incinerator unit, watching the hatch of it close, opening again just after mere seconds.

 _‘No smell,’_ she thought, sad at the absence of the scent of charred leather. Morinth mimicked her mother’s pose, with her hands behind her back, and chest out - her dark blue nipples puckered _tight_ due to the tender ministrations of the Doma. Samara’s gaze remained unchanging as Morinth stared into her eyes, her cunt _twitching_ at that screwed up mix of hatred and love.

“This is the last warning, Ardat-Yakshi. Relinquish the rest of your belongings, or face the breakage of the rite,” Samara warned, motioning to Morinth’s boots and earrings. Blushing, Morinth murmured an apology, and bent down in front of Shepard once more as she stepped out of the shoes, hoping the scent of her sex would reach the male’s nostrils.

They were burnt just as quickly, and the small earrings were unclipped from the Ardat-Yakshi’s ears, held over the mouth of the incinerator. She hesitated again, recognising the earrings as Nef’s fine, minute artwork - a pair of woven metal stars, constructed from the supports of Omega itself. As Morinth saw Samara’s hand spark with biotic rage, however, she released them, another piece of the Omega girl’s memory erased forever.

“And with the release of corporeal items, the Ardat Yakshi witnesses the first tenet of _siari_ . As all is one, one is all. In the grand scheme of the cosmos, one being is nothing. _You_ ,” Samara began, eyes now locked with Morinth’s predatory gaze again, “are nothing.”

Morinth bit her bottom lip as blood quickened through her system, lighting every pleasure sensor in her centuries-old body.

“All is one, one is all, and you are _nothing_ ,” Shepard repeated, his voice like _ice_ , trickling through Morinth’s veins. Be it the rite’s power, Samara’s insistence, or the cold command her mother and _her Doma_ held, Morinth felt compelled to finish the saying.

“I-I… I am nothing,” she repeated.

“As the Ardat-Yakshi parts with their past life, they are given a window into the realm of _siari_. Through this they are given vision, the knowledge of the consequences of the previous melding. Through this vision, the Ardat-Yakshi’s other senses are brought to bear this knowledge as well,” Samara continued, circling her daughter, stepping between her and Shepard.

“As I hold this rite, our _Doma_ presents themself as the force of _siari_ , the subjugator, and subjugation itself. Bind her hands behind her back, Doma, and tie the cloth around her eyes,” Samara commanded Shepard, the human obeying without question. Morinth fought valiantly to hold back any sign of reaction, for fear of her mother’s retaliation.

She knew soon after this, that a melding would be thrust upon her, and thus drew upon her will to enforce her biotic energy. She let Shepard’s fiery grip control her, keeping her hands in place, and blinding her with the simple cloth, holding a whimpering moan in her throat. Shepard bound both extremely tight, and stood straight once more, waiting for Samara’s next command.

“Tie her legs together. Then, lie her down, face-up.”

And John did so, Morinth wincing as her _soft_ flesh bulged around the thickness of the rope. Shepard knew what was to come next, but still remained impassive, mind blank, even as his meaty dick stood painfully erect now. He lowered the asari woman gently to the cold ground, his hands practically _digging_ into her tight curves.

Morinth and he could practically _hear_ her wetness pool onto the ground, even above the hum of the starship’s mass effect field.

“Insert yourself into the Ardat-Yakshi’s mouth, _Doma_ . Crouch over her head, kneel, then insert yourself completely,” Samara ordered, guilt firing through her voice, disgust rearing its head at the directions of the rite. Shepard did as instructed, doing away with his robe, exposing himself to the cool air. As _siari_ , as subjugator, and subjugation, he stood over the quietly quivering form of the Ardat-Yakshi, the _demon_ who had slaughtered thousands. 

Sensing rage bubbling at the forefront of Shepard’s mind, Samara’s gaze turned to him.

“The _Doma_ shall insert themselves into the Ardat-Yakshi, or shall face the breakage of the rite,” She warned him, her tone flat and _deadly_ once more. Fear slithered through Morinth’s body as she twitched on the ground again, choking the roaring fire of arousal that was building at her core.

Shepard snapped his gaze upwards, and began crouching, without a word. Gripping his precum-dripping pecker, he guided it to Morinth’s lips, ignoring the unnoticeable lick she teased him with. And as her other senses began to dull, Morinth was made aware of the commander’s taste - the fluid gracing her tongue like no other had before.

She couldn’t pick it, but nonetheless braced herself as the rest of Shepard’s meat came to fuck her mouth - now _throat_ , too. She fought her gag reflex as she’d trained herself to do centuries ago, and _invited_ the human to rest inside her, intent on undulating her throat around him.

 _‘Fuck, this is long. If I made him stare before… Maybe I could make him cum until he passes out? Worth a shot…’_ She thought, her body now quietly convulsing on the floor as her pussy gushed juices in spades, staining her inner thighs. She barely registered her mother’s next words, her neck bent backwards as the commander’s cock bent to slide into her tight throat.

“As _siari_ bears down upon you, so shall you remember those you had rendered unto _siari_ too quickly - those you _annihilated, assimilated_ into your own being. For each soul surrendered, you shall remember. And once your memory has ended, so shall the _Doma_ extract himself, to prepare for the next stage of Ardat-Domakra.”

After the Code’s words left her mind, Samara prepared the bowl for her daughter, afterwards circling the pair. Shepard remained impassive, even as his veins pressed against his neck, holding in his impending orgasm. She locked eyes with him, and he seemed to calm, his breathing steadied, yet not fully settled.

Samara couldn’t distance her loins, nor her desire from the sight. It was a thing of _beauty_ , watching the demon be subjugated, _rendered moot_ under the heel of her commander, watching her daughter’s thighs squish, squelch, and rub together in the drooling of her cunt…

Samara shook her head of such thoughts, and put her arousal to use, stripping of her own armour with ease, and touching herself above the bowl she’d prepared for her daughter. She focussed on the perfect male specimen that was her commander - a towering beast of a human, the _Doma_ of her rite, using her daughter like a fucktoy, nothing but a _receptacle_ for his _thick, veiny_ cock...

It wasn’t long at all until Samara heard her own pussy dripping, slowly, into the bowl.

Morinth found a good rhythm to the rippling of her throat, but found her efforts to be in vain again, the commander’s length to be perpetually hardening in her throat - _teasing_ her with a good bellyful of hot human cum, only to deny it. The further he pressed into her throat, the more she could now _smell_ the commander’s balls, dense with seed, no doubt.

The _musk_ , the _heat_ , the _cold_ and the _dominance_ of her _Doma_ drove her fucking insane. She found that rubbing against her own legs only drove her arousal worse - as if she and Shepard were locked from reaching that next, _glorious_ high. She felt herself sticking to the floor, the tiny pain of ripping from it only agitating her further.

“ _Hnnnh…_ Good, now lock your calves around her head, _Doma_ . Dull her senses, so that she may _remember_ …”

And with that, the commander’s calves clamped shut around the asari’s head, slowly rubbing into her tentacles, purging nearly all senses from her mind. She _swore_ she came then, but could only whine into the impossibly thick dong that was jammed into her throat, feeling a horrible resurgence of _heat_ in her sopping pussy.

Every breath she took, she _breathed_ in the _Doma_ , the _siari_ , the sense of her wrongdoings. She remembered now, her very first kill, hoping to _get off_ on the sensation of reliving it. He was a strapping young Batarian male, who had just gotten into the business of smuggling, along with his brothers. He said he’d found a way out of the Hegemony, had found a way to break free of the institutionalised hatred and misery he and his family found themselves in. 

_Kaltir_ , his name was - sent by the Batarian government to capture an Ardat-Yakshi for study.

Morinth remembered - her cunt positively _tingling_ now, how he waxed poetic about taking her to a remote planet, far away from either of their races, far away from the _hatred_ and _distrust_ of their enemies. Morinth remembered taking him to bed that night, and _taking in his essence_.

She whined again as tears pooled in her eyes - sadness washing over her as the thought of Kaltir’s life vanished from the cosmos, _just like that_. She went through his brothers after that, then his father, and finally, his grieving mother, who had been smuggled upon the ship with them.

At the time, she revelled in their loss, plotting a course for the nearest station fingering herself wildly in the cockpit of the Batarian’s ship. Now, she could only feel _shame,_ biting at her mind for such a heinous crime. She wept as the thought of making the commander cum down her throat began to fade from her mind.

It seemed like hours until Samara could sense the stillness of Morinth - the last of tears having dried up, a pool of the Ardat-Yakshi’s juices gathered below her squirming ass, splashing incessantly. Samara extracted her fingers from herself, panting heavily, and circled the pair once again.

“Extract yourself, _Doma_. Then release yourself into the bowl,” the Justicar ordered again, now standing to the side of the interlocked pair, the bowl in between them. Shepard was slow, careful not to hurt Morinth, letting slip his slobbery cock from the demon’s throat. Breathing unevenly, he knelt before bowl, and fired his load into it, his seed mixing with the juices of the Justicar.

Beyond a single grunt, he made no sound, and showed no emotion, hiding the relief behind his mask. The bowl was now full to the brim, _swirling_ with enough cum to make a Krogan blush. Fighting to bite her lip at the _tantalising_ sight, Samara witnessed the weeping form of her daughter-no, the _demon,_ now. Morinth remained bound, the cloth stained with tears, a dribbling of precum and a torrent of saliva sticking to her chin. 

Samara bore witness to the uneven rise and fall of the Ardat-Yakshi’s chest, and the darkened hue of her cheeks, _knowing_ the emotional duress the asari underwent.

“For the thousands you’ve slaughtered, you remember. You will not forget them. All is one, and one is all. You,” Samara continued, feeling resolve in her stance now, “are nothing.”

“All is one, one is all. You are _nothing_ ,” Shepard repeated.

“I-I… I… A-am… Nothing…” Morinth managed to blurt out, quickly gathering the resolve she needed to _break free of this_. She felt herself being stood up once more, brought to balance on her knees. The blindfold was removed, and she was brought in front of the bowl of Shepard and her mother’s collected essences.

“The subjugation continues. As _siari_ was thrust upon you, so do you bear witness to it’s fruits and labours - the labour, which you have begun to endure, and the _fruits_ ,” Samara motioned to the steaming bowl, “which you will now partake in.”

Shepard took up position behind Morinth, and she bowed before the bowl, sniffing at it, further tears squeezing from her eyes.

“I-I…” She mumbled, hesitant to drink from the combined juices, in spite of her _inflamed_ libido.

“Partake in the fruits of _siari_ , or face the breakage of-”

Morinth dove her head in, slurping the thick seed, swallowing every last drop of the bowl, _tasting siari_ still, now _knowing_ the taste of her mother’s sweet, sweet juices. She felt her body retch and twist at the swallowing, but at the same time, failed to stop herself. She coughed and sputtered, and held back the urge to throw up into the mix, lest she be murdered where she knelt.

At the end, Morinth, the once night-demon of the Milky Way, was left only with the dripping edges of genital juices, in a _bowl_. She cried further into it, and looked back up to her mother, who could only stare down at her with impassiveness.

“Partake in the fruits of _siari_ , _Ardat-Yakshi_ , or face the breakage of the rite,” Samara ordered, ushering to the remnants still left in the bowl. Morinth could only cry again, and hesitated, before she felt Shepard’s hands force her head back down. Gently, yet firmly, he guided her through the remainder of the messy bowl, until it was licked clean.

The floor was drenched now, with Morinth’s flowing, azure juices staining the nearby carpet of Shepard’s cabin. Yet she raised her head again, cheeks marred with tears, semen, and the pure, _succulent_ essence of her mother. Samara nodded, and commanded Shepard to relinquish his grip, noticing the tip of his cock was wet with precum again.

“And as you enjoy the results of a coupling, you are shown of the fruits of _siari_ . The memory of which will stick with you now, until the end of your Matriarchy. You will remember the fruits of which you denied so, so many. All is one, one is all. You,” Samara intoned, heat rising to her cheeks now, never having felt this _fucking hot_ since her Matron days, where she conceived Morinth and her sisters, “are _nothing.”_

“All is one, one is all. You are _nothing,”_ Shepard repeated again, taking a silent breath in at the sight of the shattered Ardat-Yakshi.

It took minutes before Morinth found the words again, fighting the bile rising in her throat.

“I-I… I am nothing…”

“As you have partaken in the fruits, now shall you partake in your first meld, upon equal ground. You will embrace eternity, with me, and with the _Doma_ . As siari demands it, you will _shatter_ your addiction to the melding, and with it, your desire to _consume_ , as a demon.”

Those words reignited the last bit of strength she held, as an Ardat-Yakshi. Her tears still fell, but she remembered her original intentions, and nodded to her mother one last time. The _melding_ was _her_ domain - she could easily sap the strength from both her mother and Shepard, with ease.

She just had to let her mother ease into it, and then she would be _prey…_

Samara knelt down to Morinth’s eye level, and let her eyes gloss over, turning into the black of the cosmos that surrounded them. She then ordered Shepard to kneel by Morinth’s side, keeping them both in her vision. With a deep breath, her consciousness beginning to soar, Samara sighed, her arousal only spiking further.

She brought a hand to Morinth’s cheek, and the other to Shepard’s.

“Now… _Embrace eternity.”_

And so, Morinth found herself free. Her binds were gone, as were the musky, _sweet_ juices on her cheeks. Her mind became clearer as the biotic suppressors faded in power, and she felt around, searching for the spirits of her _Doma_ and her mother. She found Shepard first, standing still, cock hanging free once more.

Morinth felt arousal spiral up inside her core again, twisting in her cunt until she found movement damn near _impossible_ . Failing movement in the realm of the melding, she simply _willed_ Shepard closer, and made him face her. She could tell he was shocked, even if he displayed no outward emotion.

Cupping a hand around his cheek, Morinth let out a _sick_ giggle, intent on punishing Shepard’s incorporeal form, before finally absorbing his essence. His eyes widened as he felt her grip strengthen, _flinging_ him across the infinite black depths of the melding.

“ _You will pay, Shepard! You and mother will-”_

_“Embrace eternity!”_

Morinth found herself spirited away once more, and felt her mother’s cold grip around her neck before she could react. She felt the familiar burn of the rope as her arms were bound again, snapping from what seemed like hundreds of directions at once. She met Samara’s gaze, as she materialised fully in front of her.

 _“You cannot hurt your Doma in this meld. Should it take me a thousand years, I will make you witness the subjugation of siari - the subjugation of the universe. You will remember what it means to hurt another sentient, and you will_ **_know_ ** _what it means to be truly powerless!”_

For a good, long while, Shepard felt the control wrenched from his body as Morinth’s ethereal form was brought to heel by Samara. The Justicar circled her again, _digging_ through Morinth’s memories, bringing every _kill_ back to light again - bringing the full force of Morinth’s sins crashing down upon her already battered mind.

He was made to fuck her. To destroy her. To shatter every complex Morinth had justified in her mind. To bring her under his heel, and make her kiss the black floors of the meld. He was made to cum in this ethereal realm, _again_ and _again_ , until Morinth was spiritless.

_“All is one.”_

_“You.”_

_“Are.”_

_“Nothing!”_

_“One is all.”_

_“I am nothing…”_

As she wept again, whether at the regret of her crimes, or at the loss of her addiction, Morinth could feel the tug of reality once more. She, Shepard and Samara left the realm of the melding, and found each other’s sight again. Mere seconds had passed in their physical reality, and Morinth felt the return of her true, _physical_ arousal, cursed as it was!

She felt empty - the fight _ripped_ from her, and could only find the energy to stare at her mother again. Samara rose, as did Shepard, finding themselves no worse for wear, and stared down at her.

“And so that you have been made equal in the realm of the meld, so shall you be made equal physically. So shall the last of your demonic taint be _scoured away_ ,” Samara intoned once more, as if nothing had happened, her own horniness having faded slightly. The Justicar motioned to Shepard to pick up Morinth.

“Be brought under heel again by _siari,_ be subjugated once more, until you are truly _broken,_ Ardat-Yakshi.”

Samara laid at the head of Shepard’s bed, and spread her legs for her daughter to embrace her. Shepard tossed the asari onto the bed without effort, and realigned her to be embraced with Samara, before spreading her asscheeks. Morinth whimpered in protest, but failed to wiggle her arms from the binds again, her protests silenced by her mother’s tongue, linking with hers.

With a blank mind, with a blank expression, the _Doma_ of the rite buried himself to the hilt, inside the tight, _boiling_ pussy of the Ardat-Yakshi. As his body fucked her in the realm of the melding, so did her fuck her now, without mercy, without regret, without _emotion,_ without _passion_.

By the Justicar’s demand, by her Code, Shepard did not stop. Morinth wept, screaming, cumming herself, and exploding juices out her sopping cunt, but did not beg. Their positions changed, and the hours passed with Morinth’s lips locked to her mother’s, her _Doma’s_ cock having either been buried in her asshole, vagina, or recently extruded from her mouth.

(Some time later…)

The united galaxy fought for the next year - gathered in spades by the crew of the Normandy. Allegiances were formed and mettle was tested in the field of space; a triumphant, pyrrhic victory that future generations would not forget. Homeworlds may have been annihilated, systems rendered silent, but slowly, the galaxy at large rebuilt.

Having been plucked from the rubble by Jack, Shepard was making a recovery from his grievous injuries, now recuperating on the Citadel. Though the wounds would heal, he'd never forget the horrors the Reapers wrought, and he'd never forget the sacrifices made so that the galaxy could _live._

He mused for a moment, already sorting the stories he’d tell his children, and his children’s children, elated that he’d be free to forge on with this life now. John smiled, sat on the edge of his bed, in the apartment Anderson had provided him, staring _down_ . Marvelling at the beauty beneath him, he couldn’t help but envision his future family - a potential _army_ of tiny hellions and biotics, of all races. 

A quiet gagging noise brought him out of his thoughts, and his smile turned sly, _sinister,_ even _._ As _alive_ and lithe she'd been since they first met, Morinth pleasured her commander, sucking him with half-lidded eyes. 

Her _Doma_. 

They fought together in the hives of the Collector's base, the crew of the Normandy extracted, and the human-Reaper annihilated. They fought together on Earth, in the final run for the Citadel, their _holy grail_ for the allied forces. She helped her mother defend the monastery upon Kallini, ensuring that her sisters and the remaining Ardat-Yakshi would not be made into weapons for the Reaper hordes.

She extracted the length from herself, and let it hang limp, licking her lips at the meal John had provided her. He brought his hand to her cheek, and idly stroked it, bringing her to lie on the bed with him. Morinth nested her head into the crook of his shoulder, and hummed quietly to herself, resting in the _heat_ of her Doma.

She couldn’t help but marvel at the human’s sheer will. His dominance, and defiance of failure itself. Even when presented with a _suicide_ _mission_ , John went through it with no worry, unyielding. It shocked her, even a year later, as he faced down Reapers on ground! True, most of the time he had the help of a _fleet_ with him, but still - the morale boost alone from seeing a Reaper _toppled_ , _destroyed_ , saved billions that day.

The human was her predator. Her saviour, in part, and her _Doma_.

“Don’t suppose you want to see a show later? I heard a new band called Apex Annihilation is playing in the Ultima Ward - they have a volus band member who performs using his biotic amp…” She suggested, smiling, dancing her fingers along his chest. John smiled back to her, gently rubbing the crook of her back.

“I’m game. Give me the time and I’ll dress myself,” he chuckled dryly, cupping a handful of Morinth’s tight, azure ass. She bit her bottom lip, giggling back, and wrapped a hand ‘round his girthy cock.

“I mean, I don’t think anyone will question one of the saviours of the galaxy if they rock up naked…"

Shepard shook his head at her. 

As Morinth opened her mouth to retort, the door to John's room swung open, revealing Samara, and the rest of her daughters. The Justicar met the scene with the same unfazed stare the Commander adored her for, smiling as took in the full picture. 

"John, Morinth," she purred, "John, you remember my daughters, Falere and Rila." 

The two blushed politely as they averted the human's gaze, bowing. Shepard and Morinth appraised their forms as they had before, noting their ample breasts and tight assets, hidden conservatively by their robes. Kallini _had_ been an electrifying adventure, and tensions ran high that day, as they did during the Reaper War...

Still, noticing their gawking at his naked form, and the fact that he’d just finished with their sister, John could only smirk, his length hardening at the voyeurism taking place.

"I'm inferring a lot of things by the fact that you didn't immediately backpedal, Samara. I can only assume you've brought these two, " he motioned to her daughters, "to be…" 

Samara raised an eyebrow at him, staring between all three of her daughters. 

"I'm their words, _‘fucked like maidens’_. They've heard the stories, and they want a test of an Ardat-Yakshi's might against your endurance, Shepard," Samara practically mewled, motioning for Falere and Rila to sit on the bed. 

Shepard locked eyes with Morinth, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, before eyeing up Rila, the older of the two. 

"I accept this test of theirs. On the condition that if you lose, you _become mine."_

Rila swallowed a lump in her throat, but guffawed, fanning herself at the harsh rise of heat to her cheeks. 

_"Bring it on, Commander."_


	2. Yesteryear's Harvest (STORY BEGINNING)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (SORRY - THIS IS WRITTEN OUT NON-LINEARLY, BUT THIS IS WHERE SHIT STARTS. THE ORIGINAL BEGINNING WAS SHITHOUSE.)
> 
> Alternatively; Shepard, hero of the Alliance, is sent to Eden Prime in order to retrieve a Prothean Beacon...

Flying low at a high velocity, the scarring winds of Eden Prime's ecosystem whirled against the hull of the Normandy. It opened it's cargo bay doors, the glorious gusts billowing into the hold, whipping the faces of a gathered squad. Three humans and a Turian, already left behind by their Captain, dropped to the planet's surface, inertial dampeners and biotic amps cushioning gravity's deathly impact.

Their commander, for the most part, was silent, _eerily_ so, ignorant of the approaching storm. He walked with a domineering, inhuman gait, fitting for someone of his gargantuan physical stature. To the untrained eye; he appeared to be a mockery of all that was human. Hands, apish and large. A broad chest, which stuck out like a blinding target. And a pair of hawkish eyes, always scouting, never resting.

_Find that beacon._

Kaida Alenko disliked him, to begin with. Even now, the biotic lieutenant felt uncomfortable standing in the same _space_ as the commander; let alone taking orders and communicating with him. She'd heard plenty of things, Kaida did - heard of John Shepard's near-spotless record, his countless commendations, and his incredible acumen with alien races; both Council and not.

For a human to speak openly with Turians and Asari as fluently as he did Batarian and Elcor was shocking to the masses of the Alliance. Opinion was divided on him. Rumours flew about that "Shepard" was a title, an agent's name, and nothing more - so that a paper-based-hero could be played up by military propaganda. Others brought forth the idea that he really _had_ accomplished all those feats, earnt every medal he did, by virtue of an uprisen upbringing.

Kaida had shot the shit before with Jenkins, her squadmate, on the topic before. She had joked about the commander's "buggy, Salarian eyes", or his Krogan-built throat, designed for the sole purpose of absorbing the impact of Ryncol.

"The next stage of human evolution…" Rikki joked, murmuring to Kaida. The pair erupted in choked laughter, before silencing themselves at the commander's halt. Stuck with observing Shepard for his Spectre candidacy, the turian Nihlus held back a smirk, relaxing herself to witness the human's tear down.

Rikki froze in horror as the commander stared down at her; easily towering over the marine. He took a deep breath as even the wildlife seemed to quiet, choked by the vanguard's presence. He took two rigid steps towards her, boots crunching the ground beneath him, and stopped.

"Jenkins," Shepard growled, face set in an impossibly straight line, "reprime your shields."

She shivered, fumbling for the button on her armour, and felt the distinctive whir of the miniature mass effect fields vibrate against it. Still stifling a laugh, Kaida shook her head, amused at the rookie's expense - and fell back into step as Shepard continued, rifle at the ready.

Disappointed, but not unimpressed, the spectre took mental notes of the commander's methods, keeping her senses keen to the planet's scurrying wildlife. As the errant hum of a generator warbled _just_ into earshot, she took note of the inhuman human's deathly-tight grip of his rifle, and his calm, controlled demeanour.

She marvelled at the weapon of choice; something that was loosely based on a M7-Lancer, modified for the commander's massive grip, fit with a barrel that was easily twice as thick as a stock rifle. She found that the heat clips were stocked with liquid-nitrogen coolers, if the symbols were anything to go by.

Fitting, really. Big human. Big gun.

Big heat, big cold to mask that heat.

She liked that about the humans she had met, she really did - what they lacked in grace, poise, they made up for in a refreshingly straightforward tenacity. Not as blatant as the monotonous elcor, but still, when they had a project in mind, they really put their all into it. She felt it a bit dissimulative; as if they were attempting to look their best for a galactic crowd at large, but cared not at the end of the day.

Their species' joint effort, the Normandy, had proven a fine weapon to pour over. And it would serve them both well, in the years to come, whether as a tool, or a symbol. Nihlus mused on her own thoughts until they halted their steps.

Even as her mandibles flared in quiet horror that was on display before them, she found no such reaction on Shepard's face. Geth had piled corpses high in a neat mound, and were impaling each of them upon mighty bleached bones, ghastly and ghoulish constructs that just felt _off_.

The last man they picked up still had some life left in him. Still had the chance to scream, to resist, before his body was drained of all fluids. His death knell was the disinterested, insectoid clicking of Geth communicators, before consciousness faded. The gathered party stood in cover, stunned in fear at the monstrosities those bones brought forth; withered, technological husks; _mockeries_ of the people of Eden Prime.

Rikki crouched low, unable to tear her stay away from the viscera before her, the red-stained stands of the white Geth-daggers, where they had been implanted in now sullied ground. Tears fell from her eyes as the flesh faded, gave rise to machine, cold and hollow. She was wrested from her shock by a biotic grip, Shepard's hands clamping around her face.

He brought her to look at him - to stare into his predatory eyes, and mouthed 3 words.

" _Fight or flight."_

(Some time later…)

Nihlus was no stranger to the atrocities a "civilised" person could commit against another. Kaida was no stranger to _cruelty_ , to the brutality of a human-hating alien, and nor was Shepard. The spectre had seen first-hand sentient-life trafficking, it's echoes and woes, and the sheer bleakness the galaxy had to offer.

Kaida had been brought under heel one time too many by her old mentor, back at BAaT. Vyrnnus, his name was. A hard-ass even amongst his own race, who had it out for the biotic aspirants under his wing. Kaida remembered the _shattering_ of his brittle neck, as clear as day. It replayed itself in her head some nights, when sleep failed to come.

Shepard knew of what happened to human men in Batarian space. His history with fighting off the slaver-legions of the female-dominated society had taught him that many men had sooner begged for death than capture, and for good reason. He'd seen the emaciated shells of former soldiers and husbands, broken down to nothing more than breeding stock.

He found it less gruelling, less insensitive, and less harrowing than the bodies before him. Hundreds of corpses, trailing to Eden Prime's biggest settlement, each in various states of barbaric transformation. It was the act of a cold, unfeeling machine that dragged out a swathe of women, men and children from their homes, _converting them_.

And still, he kept calm. Kept pressing on, ordering the silence of Jenkins more than once.

They came across the wounded, and what was left of the 212; a valiant defence against the Geth hordes. The fireteam aided them where they could, routing any and all survivors towards an extraction point the Normandy plucked them from. After the dust cleared, four marines remained, the leader of which stood before Shepard, saluting him.

She darted a quick gaze to Nihlus, instantly stiffening, but returned her gaze to the impassive human.

"G-Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212, sir. Or what's left of it," she spoke, voice ragged from shouting, clearly uncomfortable around the alien amidst their crew. John scanned the remainder of the unit, taking note of their equipment, finding two of them baring a dark glare at their leader.

"At ease. Tell me what happened, Chief."

And so, she did. It was as he feared; as the footage warned.

A geth incursion, led by something that was _clearly_ not of geth design. Shepard stood for a moment; and computed their combined forces, determining a battle plan for their group.

"Williams; you and your unit will follow our lead. I want 20 metres of distance between us, halting if you see an enemy. I want nothing but cover fire from you and your squad," he began, shutting down any complaints from the battered marines with a harsh glare.

"Kaida and I are biotics; we'll lead any charge, followed short by Jenkins, covering anything we miss," he continued, eyes darting to Rikki, who even now had that defensive fire burning in her eyes; instincts held back by army-trained discipline.

Shepard then turned his gaze to Nihlus, who could only smirk.

"Let me guess, commander. Forward scout?"

He nodded, "stealth on at all times; and do _not_ engage until I say so. Respond at random intervals via omni-tool, but cease if you sight the enemy. Geth are smart; the more there are, the smarter their network, the tighter their formation."

"What does that have to do with her omni-tool?" a private under Ashley's command asked. Shepard narrowed in at her nametag, reading "Bhatia".

"More than likely, the Geth are tapping every signal they can, finding and cutting what transmissions they can. If they do end up catching Nihlus' omni-tool's signal, then hopefully they'll ignore it as random noise," the commander advised the marine, turning heel and marching forward to where the 212 and colonists had been pincered from.

(...)

Shepard prowled, sensing an idle _tick_ as his omni-tool silently informed him of Nihlus' position. With the next update, he and his fireteam strode silently forward, coming across a geological facility built into the side of a great basin; packed densely with foliage. It was overshadowed by an ominous, hovering starship; dark blue and black, forged with a metal that seemed to _warble_ and _wriggle_ on it's own.

It was colossal, it's squid-like tendrils snaking down towards Eden Prime, like the hand of a god - piercing the heavens. An ominous and _evil_ god, who's very presence seemed to radiate _control_. The commander despised it - that _aura_ , and continued forward in spite of it, ordering his squad to press on.

_Alien_ , he thought, _not Geth, too... Fluid. not Batarian, too sleek. Not Turian,_ he continued, _too inefficient_. _Not Asari, too… Wrong. Too big for the Elcor, Volus, Hanar and Drell - perhaps salvaged by Quarians?_

The arms of the ship _moved_. Shepard paused briefly, catching himself, before scanning his horizon once more. The ticking of Nihlus' omni-tool grew louder, more prominent as they pressed on - taking sight of the enemies she had marked - more stalking Geth. Kaida and Jenkins steeled themselves for the fight ahead, trying desperately not to stare at the colossus awaiting them.

Nihlus came quickly back into view. Panting. Hardened still, but shaking - eyes darkening as she looked the commander over again.

"Another spectre, Saren, is coordinating the Geth. _She's controlling them_ ," she whispered, curious, as if not believing the words coming from her mouth.

Shepard nodded. He could tell she was conflicted, confused.

"Then we're in for a fight. Stay in our middle - provide suppressing fire. Look over our backs until we clear the first few waves, then bolster our the 212-"

"I can short-circuit Saren's cybernetic implants-"

"If you can, sabotage Geth weapons, and Geth constructs themselves. Do not engage with Saren until I say so," he reaffirmed, stalking forward.

"But-"

"Do _not_ engage with Saren - and do _not_ engage her with any form of electronic warfare. We need any and all recording equipment performing correctly if what you say is true, Nihlus. If we can capture Saren-"

"We _won't_ , Shepard. Saren will use anything and _anyone_ to get her way - she'll avoid capture at any costs," Nihlus challenged Shepard, voice firm.

He simply stared at her, impassive. Kaida and Jenkins felt themselves _choke_ under that air the commander exuded, punctuated by the gargantuan spacecraft hanging in Eden Prime's atmosphere.

"Alright. Use everything you have, then. It'll be our word against the Council when we return," he noted.

" _If_ we-"

"When," he repeated to her, a fire lit in his eyes, "when we return."

"Williams!" Shepard barked, "Channel Zulu, keep your ears open."

"Kaida, slash and burn - Jenkins, put pressure on our marks. Nihlus - overload any and all Geth you see marked by Kaida or I."

And with that, followed by Kaida in quick tow, Shepard charged, muscles twitching to align his body for a biotic charge. Approaching a nearby docking station attached to the geological site, he _rammed_ the first synthetic to poke it's head from cover, zipping past it's sensors in lightspeed. Eyes honing in on the target, Jenkins fired her rifle at the shattered limbs of the Geth unit - her bullets shredding through as Kaida _warped_ it's metal flesh. With a flick of her wrist - the mangled remains of that Geth unit _crumbled_ , to ash.

" _I know it's been tough,"_ said Shepard over Ashley's comms, " _but I'm going to need your team for this push."_

The chief winced as she heard the audio distorting from the lightspeed-shift - another biotic charge having gone off. Shaking her head from the violent sight they'd just witnessed, Ashley followed the spectre ahead of them, suspecting the turian of setting a trap.

" _We'll watch your back, commander."_

As the Geth rain hell upon Eden Prime, so did Shepard and crew retaliate with as much hell as they could muster. Bullets, biotics and bombs flew aplenty - scoring shields and flesh alike - as one synthetic fell after the other. Nihlus aided in kind with countering scrambling signals, frying the electronics of their foes.

Stretching their firepower to it's logical max, _and then some_ , the crew soon cleared themselves a route to the beacon's site - getting pulled along by a travelator. Finding a quiet moment of rest, Shepard kept his eyes peeled for further threats along their road. For a second, he flicked his head back to his squad, their rescues, and Nihlus, nodding.

For that brief second, they shared a look that echoed sympathy. Empathy. The shared knowledge that they'd each had their trials like this, before. Maybe in some foreign system, maybe at home, defending from _pirates_ and the like, but they knew what the other felt. Shepard smiled to them, and sighed.

"We're almost in the clear. After this, we'll be taking you back to the Normandy for a quick checkup before dropping you back planetside," he advised.

"Don't' screw 'round, Commander! Leave us here - just _hunt_ those synthetic _fucks_ out of our system!" one of the 212 spoke, a portly lad by the name of "Carmine".

"We'll have eyes on the Geth soon enough, and with any luck, we'll be able to find what they're up to - where they're going. I'll light a fire under the brass' ass to reinforce the stations here. That," he turned back again, "you can count on."

Carmine shook his head, not believing him for a second.

"So," Ashley piped up, ignoring a glare from her squadmates, "you're _the_ Commander Shepard, right?"

"To my knowledge there are 5 _Commander Shepards_ in service at the Alliance. There's a good chance I'm at least one of them," he replied, so very dryly.

Kaida and Rikki snickered, smiling at Nihlus, who could only shake her head in response.

"Sword of Elysium," she called out, stoic, "Warden of Torfan. _Sole Survivor of-"_

There was a slight tensing of Shepard's body - which exuded a stopping, silencing air. He craned his head back, slow, and locked his hunting eyes with the chief's, his smile having long since faded.

"I'm your commanding officer. For now, that's all that should matter."

And, with no further word, all humour sucked from the conversation, the group arrived at their destination. Battles flying past in seconds, Shepard and Kaida led their charge once more, tearing through enemy ranks, leaving nothing but scrap and disoriented targets for their backup - slaughtering the Geth in troves.

" _Break their line!"_

" _Warp that!"_

" _All guns, fire on that platform!"_

" _Scramble it's head - I'll charge!"_

" _Suppressing fire - now halt!"_

" _212, pull back! Get your wounded to cover!"_

" _Jenkins - pull your head out of your ass, and_ _ **fire**_ _!"_

Nihlus felt a quiet _rush_ as the commander carried on. With his new, inexperienced crew, he controlled them like a mastermind during a _game_. Leaving no action to chance, he computed things with an utmost speed that left her reeling - aiming at a target, only to have it _annihilated_ before her.

"Heads up, Nihlus! Rocket on your right!"

She snapped a harsh breath as she strafed to cover, covering her ears as that rocket _flew_ nearby. She expected heat - a warmth, and a paralysing bunker of shrapnel _loading_ itself into her lower body. Opening her eyes, cautious as ever, she noted a keen red field erected above her - a deployed shield. Upon closer, quick inspection, she found it to be a _biotic_ shield - humming with all the celestial presence of a mass effect field.

"Keep sharp! Sensors tell me there's only one left!"

Her eyes snapped back to Shepard as she shot a few cloaked Geth encroaching on his position - noticing that keen red glow covering his arms.

"Then get them recalibrated, commander!"

Catching more synthetic soldiers handling explosives, they soon found themselves on the lowest platform in the dig - perched in the centre of it, a Prothean device. Their _beacon_. Hovering in front of it was their new target - _Saren_. She looked _wrong -_ a mix of machine and flesh, more _alien_ than Shepard thought possible - suspended in mid air. Her limbs were bent back beyond their mortal limits - but Shepard could tell she was breathing, alive still.

"We'll just have to… To…" Kaida began, the words _lost_ on her lips.

Cautiously, they surrounded the rogue spectre, and without a peep, stalked forwards. Ignorant to the warnings of his teammates - Shepard felt a _pull_ from the beacon - a chorus of war-drums and screaming voices, the sounds of skin being torn, meat being _slashed_ , and bone being _snapped_. It was a cacophonous wail of hellish cries and choked goodbyes that _lured_ him in - sung to him, as if urging him to join Saren as their audience.

"Commander, no!" Rikki shouted, being held back by Kaida as he shuffled on.

"What the _fuck_ is he doing!?"

There was something so very, very wrong about that glowing green monolith, something that screamed to the primal brain inside of him - warning him to _run_. And yet, he pressed forwards still. Lowering his pistol, he put his hand to Saren's back, and faded from the waking realm.

There was darkness. Only darkness, and then, _light_. War. Unfeeling, unyielding harvests. Trillions of dead souls. _Husks_. The living dead - and the dead, dragged _screaming_ into unlife. The very essence of a species - the protheans? - reduced to a sloshing, pale protein - only to be reformed into _horrifying_ mockeries. _Control_.

_Domination._ The breaking of will, shattering of allegiances - and how Prothean society collapsed. So very many names and records - _lost_ to them. Destroyed and _defiled by_ the enemy. Archives and databases, weapons and tests, treasured memories and loves and lives, _annihilated_ by _them_.

The Reapers.


End file.
